Last of Their Clan
by InquisitorAllandra
Summary: When Allandra hears the news of the fate of her clan... (And thank you for the reviews, they're much appreciated! )
1. Chapter 1

Last of Their Clan

InquisitorAllandra

* * *

Author's Notes:

Aaaah I'm so glad so many are liking Allandra's story so far! The faves, follows, and comments make me smile and keep me wanting to write more.

Whelp. I'm sure you can guess what this is. I failed my save Clan Lavellan line at the mission table :( I do wish we could have MET the Clan in game, but alas... Of course, I also wish there had been a scene that the Inquisitor, companions, and LI coulda, y'know...reacted to the news.

May or may not be a 'Chapter One'.

Inquisitor Allandra x Cullen, also contains Lyora, Allandra's sister.

* * *

They had been in a meeting when the messenger came. The large heavy oaken door creaked open slowly, and for Allandra, the sound seem like a death knell to hear ears.

The Inquisitor trailed off on whatever she was saying to Josephine in regards to a query about Lord something-or-other as Leliana strode over to the messenger. From where she stood, Allandra could tell the messenger was weary – he must have ridden hard to get here with whatever news it was he bore. By the look on Leliana's face as she looked the parchment over, it was bad indeed. To her left, she heard Cassandra make that grunting noise that declared her frustration before the Seeker briskly crossed the room to look over Leliana's shoulder.

"Leliana? Cassandra? What is it?" Josephine took the words right out of Allandra's mouth. The diplomat frowned as Allandra and Cullen shared a concerned glance. Their attention returned to the others when Leliana and Cassandra returned to the war table, the messenger nervously fidgeting over by the door.

Allandra could not shake the feeling of dread at the look in their eyes.

"Inquisitor – you may wish to sit down." Leliana began, eyes downcast, shaded further by her hood. "The news is...not good." The statement only earned a frown from the Inquisitor, even as her ears pinned back and someone dropped a weight of iron in the pit of the dalish elf's gut. Even so, she looked confused, but sat when Cullen pulled a chair up behind her, giving Allandra the lightest of touches to her shoulder. The Commander stayed put right behind her once she was settled.

Josephine came round from the far side of the table to join the rest, clipboard and quill forgotten in her usual spot.

"The messengers we sent to the Duke of Wycome to aid your clan.-"

Allandra's eyes widened, gripping the arms of the chair to keep herself seated rather than flying out of it to snatch the letter. "Did they get there? Are they safe? Leliana, what-"

Leliana slowly shook her head. "I am sorry, Inquisitor. The Duke's men – they did not make it in time. The bandits, they struck during the night. The scouts I had sent to try to move the clan were not enough to aide in the defense-"

All other sound was drowned out by a roaring in Allandra's ears. The Inquisitor fell backwards against the back of the chair, her body feeling as if it were suddenly made incapable of moving. She felt her hands begin to shake, eyes widening before clenching them shut; the sudden tang of iron on her lips told her she'd bitten through her lip. She was frozen, one thought looping through her mind.

"What – what about survivors? They couldn't -all- be dead?" Allandra choked out the words. She feared she already knew the answer, but she had to know for sure. Looking up to meet Leliana's gaze, the last embers of hope died without the woman having to say a word. Allandra let her gaze fall, unfocused eyes staring down at her hands.

_My clan is gone. Dead. Butchered._

Raised voices said that Cassandra was pelting the unfortunate messenger with questions. Voices and noise started to rush back in her hearing as Allandra forced herself up on wobbly legs. She -would- stand, she had to get out of here. To closed in, the war room was to small, to many people, she couldn't breath, couldn't think; where was the clan, where was Lyora –

Everything suddenly crashed over the Inquisitor like a tidal wave. Everyone speaking – Cullen was trying to talk to her, he was standing in front of her, trying to steady her – when had he gotten there? What was he saying? So was Josephine. Josephine was crying – or trying to hide that she was crying. She couldn't tell the voices apart, everything was to loud and to much. Something sent a shock through Allandra, ripping a sudden strangled yell from the dalish.

Her anguised cry brought the room to a sudden, deafening silence. In that moment, Allandra managed to dart around Cullen, bolting past Cassandra and Leliana, and made her escape down the hall. Shouts from the advisors chased after her, the echoes fading the farther she ran.

Those left standing in the Inquisitor's wake were stunned, various degrees of sympathy and pain playing across their expressions. The poor scout was nearly in tears, practically on the floor groveling and begging the Maker's mercy. Noting the distress of her scout, Leliana gave a small nod of dismissal, and watched as he, too, fled down the hall.

Leliana pursed her lips, striding back across the room to wrap an arm around a distraught and inconsolable Josephine. "Josie, it is not your fault. You did what you could."

Josephine shook her head. "It was my job – she trusted me to make sure her clan was safe. I cannot even begin to imagine-" A sob cut her off as the antivan let her head drop onto Leliana's shoulder.

Cullen had stood frozen at the door, stuck in an impasse. Should he go after her? Would she want him there right now...? She may want to be alone. Or, likewise, she may seek out her sister. The Commander glanced over his shoulder to Cassandra, who rolled her eyes and gave a sharp wave a the door.

With a more decisive nod, more for himself than for anyone, he set a brisk pace out the door. If he knew anything about his lady Inquisitor, he knew where she liked to hide to be by herself.

Rather than flee to her room, or find Lyora, Allandra simply ran. She let her feet choose the path as tears stung her eyes not really in a mindset to consciously choose or plan a destination. Allandra ignored the looks of concern, and neither did she stop when any of the inhabitants of Skyhold her called out to her. It barely even registered that she was passing anyone, barely managing to dodge any that were in her way – like Blackwall, when she nearly stopped at the stables – but when she did look up all she saw were the faces of her clan.

The Inquisitor made her way up the long flight of steps to the ramparts, feeling both numb and hollow and a myriad of other emotions. Before she knew it, she had reached the very top – a small secluded tower walkway that wasn't always used. It was a spot that overlooked the whole of Skyhold and the valley that surrounded the keep.

The wind howled a mournful cry as the small huntress slid down to the cold, unfeeling stone of the walkway. Being so far up, the wind stung Allandra's exposed skin, tearing through her under armor like she was in nothing but her underthings. As she cried, salty tears nearly freezing once exposed to the wind, the wind cried, long and mournful. It was a dismal mirror, echoing the war going on in her head and heart just then.

Back to the outcropping of stone, Allandra twisted so she sat on her side, icy blue eyes staring without really seeing over the valley and surrounding mountains More often than not sitting up in this small secluded spot helped to clear her head and bring her peace, but not today. Today, the height and the view of the imposing mountains just enforced the feeling of being -alone-. In that moment, she well and truly felt completely alone.

The thought that she and Lyora were most likely the only living survivors of Clan Lavellan crept into her mind unwanted. It lead the thoughts of how her clan must have been overrun in the night, slain in their beds; the screaming of the children and the crying of the babes, those of the clan that had managed to try to run probably ridden down like animals-

She didn't hear the thumping of heavy boots against the stone, lost in her grief as she was. It wasn't until Cullen had settled down next to her and pulled her against him and the Inquisitor realized how cold she was against the warmth of his chest that she registered the fact that he was actually there. Around she twisted, away from the mountains and the long drop to the keep below, and curled into her lovers hold. The Commander didn't say anything, not at first, and neither did she. Together they sat there, with only the mournful wails of the wind to accompany her own crying and occasional curse – either upon herself, or her gods, or herself again. Cullen would murmur to her, try to tell her it wasn't her fault, but he wasn't even sure she heard him.

Allandra was grateful for the relative silence and the comfort Cullen offered – fingers running through her hair and down her back, chin settled at the top of her head when she tucked her face in the crook of his neck. It took quite some time before she was finally spent in crying, but the tears gave way to softer sobs and a bone-deep weariness.

Cullen tilted his head downward when she started to still, wondering if she had fallen asleep. As carefully as he could, he tried to maneuver himself to pick the small elf up – Maker, but she was tiny, it still surprised him – determining that his quarter's were closer, and would avoid the brunt of the inhabitants of Skyhold and the questions that would be sure to come if he attempted to get her to her own room.

Inquisitor successfully in his arms, the Commander started to make his way down the steps when she shifted, a delicate hand gripping the front of his overcoat with a death grip. Pausing midway down the steps, Cullen met her gaze, eyebrow raised in question. It broke a little something inside him to see her in such a state of despair, the shattered look in her eyes telling the human more than Allandra probably realized.

"I – I have to bury them, Cullen. I couldn't protect them, I wasn't there – I should ha...I should have been there. I can't-" she broke off, voice not much higher than a whisper, resting her head against his plate-covered chest again. As she spoke, Cullen was careful to make his way down the steps again, if only to get closer to his quarters so they were inside. And warm.

"I can't leave them there, broken and run down and-If they aren't buried, they won't—-Falon'din, the guide, he can't – can't lead them beyond. I have to, Cullen." He'd opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. "Its the only thing left that I can do for them."

A small frown tugged at Cullen's lips. "Its dangerous, and-" Another glance down at her grief-stricken face stopped any further thought of protest. He bit back a sigh, gave a small nod, and started trying to figure how to best get to Wycome.

"Allandra-" _You could have died with them. You would be dead now. They may have taken you hostage if they realized who you were. You –_ He did not want to think of what would be going on right now if she HAD been there. A dozen more possibilities immediately came to mind, and none of them he liked.

"I -have- to do this, _vhenan_. Please. Do not deny me this." She knit her brows together, swallowing down a new lump forming in her throat, afraid he would try to talk her out of it.

He was saved from having to answer immediately when they finally reached his quarters. Cullen thanked Andraste and the Maker both that there was no one there waiting for him with reports or the like. He helped Allandra to stand before locking the doors on either side to ensure that they remained alone.

Striding over to his desk, his coat was discarded, set to the side before sitting. Settled in, he waved the Inquisitor over to join him.

"It is a week's travel to Wycome, at the least." He said at last, again curling his arms around her once she settled into his lap. "I can have word sent ahead, and have...well. Leliana mentioned something of sending a contingent of scouts ahead to investigate. I can notify any of our remaining soldiers to prepare the bodies."

Allandra tilted her head back, staring up to meet his gaze. "Will you come with us?"

He ran a rough, callused hand through her cinnamon brown hair. Leaning forward, he planted a light kiss to her forehead. "We can leave at first light."

The Inquisitor let her shoulders slump as a long, weary sigh escaped her. Pillowing her head again against his chest, she let her eyes drift shut. "Thank you." Silence once again enveloped the pair, but this time, at least, it was more comfortable than earlier.

It occurred to Cullen he only had a vague idea of a dalish funeral – that is to say, he had no idea. The question died on his lips, however, as this time, Allandra was well and truly asleep.

He'd have to ask her later.

Ending Notes:

Keep an eye out for a possible Chapter Two!

And as always, thank you all for favoriting / following / and comments! I love comments!


	2. Chapter 2

Last of Their Clan, Chapter 2

-InquisitorAllandra

* * *

Author's Notes:

YEAA CHAPTER TWO. I have like, two dozen different fluff fics and other various angst-and-fluff fics I started in between / before starting this one, but the angst is strong in this one. _Last of Their Clan_ begs to be finished before I can commit to the million other stories I want to write. The muses have bitten and it looks like _Last of Their Clan_ will be a bit longer than I first imagined! This chapter has gotten longer than I imagined it, but there's reasons!

For those just joining, Lyora is my MageLavellan!Inquisitor; but in here, she's Allandra's older sister.

Enjoy!

Inquisitor Lavellan x Cullen

* * *

True to his word, Cullen was up before daybreak making preparations for the journey to Wycome. There were orders to be left with the troops, bags to pack and mounts to ready, as well as probably another dozen things more that needed to be dealt with before they could set off.

Allandra was up not long after Cullen; Lyora emerged not but a few minutes after her sister. Both were packed and ready to go, dressed comfortably for travel. It was in the stables that Cullen found the sisters, readying their harts for the day. The elves were quiet, giving the pens a somber, heavy mood.

Leaning against the post to the pen, Cullen watched Allandra finish brushing the hart down. What had she named that beast again? Blast it all if he could remember – not for lack of trying - it was something in Dalish."We're almost ready to get underway. I have troops ready, the rest are staying here under Cassandra's command. As soon as you're ready, Inquisitor."

"I don't see why you're insisting on a troop escort, Cullen. Iron Bull, Solas, Dorian, Cole, Varric, you, myself, and Lyora are going – we face bandits all the time with just a handful of us." It had been an ongoing argument since preparations had begun, going back and forth on why and why not to bring extra troops. It made the Inquisitor frown as she closed a saddlebag with a bit more force than needed. Turning, she stared up at the Commander. At her feet, Ath'laros, Allandra's wolf companion, looked up and between Cullen and his mistress, cocked his head, and whined.

Cullen bit back a frown. "Because I'm not taking chances with this. If those 'bandits' could take out a whole clan as they did, I would rather we were prepared. We don't know what will be waiting for us once we get to Wycome."

Allandra pursed her lips. "Fine, fine. If it makes you feel better." She knew she should not be cross with him, but today she just could not help herself. Cullen was, after all, doing his job. The elf's ears fell a bit, chastising herself for being cross with the man, especially after he'd done what he could to be there for her. "_Ir abela_\- I'm sorry, Cullen. I do not mean to be cross. It is..." She stopped, swallowing back a lump.

The Commander's features softened in understanding, offering the Inquisitor a small smile. "I understand. No need to apologize." Anything further was cut off when one of the scouts called out, approaching at a jog.

"Sir, we're ready to depart on your word." Cullen nodded, dismissing the scout with a wave. He watched as both sisters lead their mounts from the pens, then mounted up and settled into the saddles. Cullen's stallion was brought out soon after.

The three rode out to meet the companions that would be accompanying the Inquisitor and the troops. Allandra and Cullen took the lead, followed by the group of companions.

The main gates of Skyhold opened with resounding creaks and groans, and the company made their way out.

Cullen eyed Allandra as they urged the horses to a comfortable trot. "Ready?"

Allandra's response was a slow nod, stiff but sure. "As ready as I can be."

It was near a week and a half by the time they reached the valley near Wycome where Clan Lavellan had been decimated. Wycome was not far, and Josephine and Leliana both had strongly urged and recommended that the Inquisitor take a delegation into the city to meet with the Duke once they had arrived. Allandra grudgingly agreed, and so Josephine had sent along a diplomat with the group to act as a liaison.

It was an hour or so before midday when the Inquisition found a spot to set up a camp, near enough that the grave site would be an easy walk, yet far enough that the large party was not on top of the mass of graves. It took some hours to get everything situated, but it was done with a great efficiency on everyone's part.

Allandra was just settling into her tent when Cullen and the diplomat envoy entered. "Inquisitor," began the young diplomat, "It seems the Duke was watching for us – an envoy just arrived with an invitation to dinner for you and any guests you wish to bring."

"Thank you – Anna, was it?" Allandra smiled, polite but tired, "I assume for tonight, then?" The Inquisitor had had plenty of time during the trip up to Wycome to have a few conversations with the young lady. Anna was from Denerim, a young lady of middle fortune who had been reared at court. Josephine had taken the girl on through a recommendation from a friend of a friend. They young diplomat was of an average height, with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes.

"Indeed, your Worship."

The Dalish looked exasperated. "I suppose we have to, or Josie will have fits that I slighted the Duke." Anna tried her best to maintain a look of neutrality, but smiled a bit at the Inquisitor. Cullen looked annoyed already. "All right – we'll go. I'll bring..." Allandra paused, ticking off who it would be safe to bring. "Cullen, Dorian, Varric, and yourself, Miss Anna."

"Not your sister and Bull? Or Ath'laros?" Cullen arched a brow. At the mention of his name, the wolf lifted his head, tilting it curiously at Cullen. Anna looked horrified at the idea.

"Your Worship, I would strongly advise against bringing your pet-"

Allandra eyed Cullen curiously, eyebrow arched to mimic, simultaneously raising a hand to silence Anna. "Lyora has less tolerance of nobility and their games than you do, Commander. Lyora would be much happier staying here." Then she turned to the diplomat. "He was joking. I may be Dalish, miss Anna, but I have learned enough that bringing my hunting companion would be ill-advised."

Anna dipped in a curtsy. "Of course. I will inform the messenger, your Worship. I do hope you brought something...suited to dining with nobility." With that, she turned, whisking out of the tent.

"Did I bring – Oooh, that girl!" Allandra grumbled to herself, a few choice words in elvish following. In her frustration, she threw a glove at her bedroll, feeling a bit better hearing the 'smack' it made against the heavy blanket.

Cullen shook his head, coming to stand in front of the smaller elf, cupping her face in his hands. A quick kiss to her forehead seemed to still her, a second kiss to claim her lips earned the Commander a happy hum. When he released her, Allandra wrapped her arms about his torso, burying her face against his chest.

A low, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the human's chest, bringing a small smile to the Inquisitor's lips. "Well. There's a few hours before I'd saw we needed to get ready to go meet with the Duke," Cullen began, fingers playing through Allandra's wind-blown disheveled hair, "and you have a few options on what to do until then. One of which might be to tell Dorian and Varric you're taking them along to said dinner." He paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "You could rest a bit, go into the city for a while, or if you'd rather go on to the grave site..?"

To that she shook her head. "No, not yet. Lyora and I talked about it, and we'd rather wait to go in the morning. Dawn, specifically."

"All right." Tucking a finger under her chin, he tilted her head back enough for her to look up, meeting his gaze. "Get some rest, darling. You look exhausted. I'll talk to Dorian and Varric, and someone will be by later to wake you."

Allandra had to stand up on tip-toe to give him a quick peck on the cheek, eyebrow raising again to accompany a tired, but mischievous, smile. "Is that your recommended course of action, Commander?"

His laugh filled the whole tent as she stepped away, settling into the bedroll. "It is. I'll see you later."

She was half-asleep by time he was exiting the tent.

The Inquisitor and her entourage arrived exactly ten minutes early, on the recommendation of their diplomatic liaison. It was a good thing that Josephine had prepared them for such a possible arrangement ahead of time; the whole group was dressed in finery, looking the part of dignitaries from such a large organization as the Inquisition had become.

Allandra had wanted the formal uniform that Josie had told her were being made for the ball at the Winter Palace, but alas, they were not ready in time for this jaunt. Her first choice had been, of course, to just wear her armor, but had been sternly warned against doing such a thing. So, Allandra had settled for a compromise – amidst everything else going on, Josephine had brought a tailor or two to Skyhold, and commissioned the Inquisitor a wardrobe. Despite protests, the ambassador explained to Allandra that for nobles, appearances mattered. While she would not subject the Dalish elf to the complex gowns of the Orlesians, she did need clothing that passed as finery so she did not send the whole of nobility into fits when they met her.

So even though she understood, mostly, the need for such things, it still baffled her that so much stock was put into they type of cloth she wore. Now, here she was, in a long tunic of a deep blue, made of some soft material that shone when the light hit it. The pants were a marvel – a rich black material the same as the tunic, but there was so -much- of it that the material made the pants flair out and look more like a skirt. A fine leather belt tooled with a vine and leaf motif cinched the tunic in, holding a single dagger.. Simple, but elegant. Her chestnut hair was left mostly loose, letting it fall nearly to her waist, pulling only a bit together to make a single braid down the back.

It was something of a miracle, the Dalish thought, that they had arrived even as early as they had – outside the walls of the city, it had been quiet, with only a few people walking or wagons heading out to the surrounding farms. Inside, however, there was barely room to move. Citizens of the city were generally quick enough to clear a path for the horses, but it still made for slow going.

Once they had finally arrived at the Duke's lavish home – a large, old estate near the center of the city that sprawled like a lazy man on the floor – stable boys emerged to take the horses to be cared for until the owners needed them again. Another servant appeared, spouting greetings and showing the guests to the door.

The door was opened with a flourish; the party was lead in, coats taken, and then all were brought to a sitting room.

"Ah, welcome, welcome! I am most honored to have you as my guests tonight. Such a privilege!" The man who made the loud announcement, Allandra noted, was getting on in his years. Quite a bit of his hair seemed to be graying; crows feet stemmed from either eye. He was not fit, rather, he seemed portly in his age.

Anna stepped to the forefront, making a deep curtsy, skirts fanning out to either side of her. "Your Grace, it is our honor to be here. I am Anna Aervin, acting as diplomat on behalf of the Inquisition in Lady Montiliyet's stead." Rising, she turned and stepped to the side. "If it pleases your Grace, allow me to make introductions?"

At the Duke's nod, she began. "I am pleased to present to his Grace Varric Tethras and Dorian Pavus, companions to the Inquisitor." Dwarf and mage stepped forward, making appropriate bows. "Varric comes to us from Kirkwall; Dorian from Tevinter."

Duke Antione raised an eyebrow at that. "The Inquisitor certainly keeps...interesting company. Do continue, my dear." A bored expression settled on the Duke's features as Cullen stepped forward next. The Commander offered a crisp bow at the waist as Anna continued her introductions. "Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition's forces, and formerly Knight- Commander of Kirkwall."

As Cullen stepped back, Allandra stepped forward. She did not like the look of the Duke, though she could not pinpoint one singular reason.

"And lastly, Her Worship, the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Allandra Lavellan." It took a great deal of willpower to not cringe at the long introduction she was given. Now, where the Duke had stood and seemed to only give a token bit of attention, he stepped forward, whisking the Dalish woman's slender hand into his own larger, grubby one.

Allandra's ears flicked back when he leaned forward, kissing the knuckles of her hand. Suddenly she felt dirty, and wanted to be far away from this greasy human. What she wanted right now, more than anything, was to jerk her hand away from this poor excuse for a leader, then turn around and leave.

"It is my honor indeed to host dinner for such a fair creature, your Worship. Tales of your wild elven beauty have reached even our ears, but they do not do you justice. Indeed, for an elf, I have never seen one so fair. My deepest sympathies and regrets on the deal of your tribe, Your Worship. I had received word from your ambassador imploring for help, but by time my men found them it was to late. If there is anything in my power that I can do to...ease your own suffering, you need but to ask."

Allandra glanced back to the others before turning back to the Duke. "I – thank you, Your Grace."

Without asking, he kept hold of her hand, moving to settle it on his arm. "If it pleases your Worship, I would be delighted to escort you to dinner." Duke Antione made a grand sweeping gesture with his arm towards another room. "Shall we? There is a great deal to discuss. I do hope dinner is to your liking, Inquisitor. I spared no expense for it."

The Inquisitor managed to force a smile. "Your Grace did not have to go to such measures for us. It was kind of you to invite us into your home." There was no doubt in her mind now that by the end of the night the forced smile would be permanent on her face.

The bulbous man turned his gaze downward to the Inquisitor, a smile that showed teeth and didn't quite reach his eyes was the answer he offered. In his eyes she saw a glint of something she certainly didn't like, like a hint to a game that the rules had suddenly be changed and she didn't know them.

It was going to be a long night.

"Cullen, have I ever mentioned how glad I am you aren't a snot-nosed _shemlen_ born to nobility?" Allandra had waited till she and her group were well outside of Wycome's gates and on their way back to came before speaking at all. It was late in the eve when the group were finally able to leave politely. The Duke, they found, was very indulgent in his food, drink, and talking, and preferred to have his parties or get togethers well into the night.

Behind her, Dorian and Varric snickered, which turned into a bit more laughter; Anna looked worn out, exasperated, and a bit agitated.

Cullen, however, smirked in amusement. "No, I don't believe you have."

"Well, now you know."

"Its not that bad, your Inquisitorialness. All he did was insult you and your people every time he opened his mouth and then proposed!" Varric called out before falling to a bit more laughter.

The Inquisitor in question groaned, covering her face with a gloved hand. When she finally uncovered her face again, she looked around at the humans in her party. "That's not how -all- humans propose, is it? Its a wonder anyone gets married if it is!"

"Mostly the nobles tend to go about it like that. Marriage for them is more a business contract with pomp and circumstance. I'm sure Sparkles here could tell you more about it than I could." Varric, finding the whole scenario endlessly amusing, chuckled as he spoke.

Dorian was dramatic in rolling his eyes. "My dear Allandra," He pulled his horse up next to her own, reaching out to take her hand before continuing. "It is as Varric says, for most of the nobility, high-borne, and other such important figures of status. Many make such arrangements from infancy if the families are intent enough on joining together. Surely our lovely ambassador has explained some of this to you?" He stopped to laugh at the face she made, nose wrinkled and lips pursed together in obvious disdain.

To the question, she nodded. "Mm. Josie has explained -some- of the workings of political marriage to me."

"Of course," he continued after the laughter died – Dorian took a moment to peer over the elf's head at Cullen, who seemed to be NOT paying much attention to the conversation, "There are those who have more of a romantic nature to them. They'll get down on one knee, make some declaration of their undying love, offer a ring...Then of course there is months of planning for the wedding itself. The bigger the better. Or, the richer the bigger."

"Creators save me from all these human customs." Allandra waved at hand at Dorian to shush the mage. "Though, we have similar such negotiations between the clans, but less about...what did you call it? Pomp and circumstance and more about not dieing out." The Inquisitor took a chance to sneak a glance over to Cullen, who had remained quiet during the whole conversation.

Smiling lightly, Allandra returned her attention to the others, and the rest of the trip, at least, was easygoing.

Dawn was rising in the sky when the small group made their way out to the burial site. Cullen had sent ahead instructions before they left Skyhold, as per the Lavellan sisters, on what exactly to do with the bodies that could be found. The dirt on the mounds just started to show the beginnings of grass covering; small saplings peeked a few inches above the graves. Otherwise, the field seemed clear of any rubble. Allandra frowned slightly – on the one hand, she was relieved to not have to see the remains of the aravels, and probably the dead halla, but...what had happened to them? The Keeper's aravel would have had relics that needed to be recovered if the bandits had not taken them all...

Allandra looked out over the field, swallowing down a lump in her throat. The soldiers who did the work would not have known who was who when they buried her clan, so she had no idea who was buried where. She would not fault them for not knowing. The Inquisitor held out a hand, and it was only a moment when her sisters hand grasped her own. Cullen stood on her left, a large and warm solid presence against the chilly wind of the valley. Ath'laros took a spot at his mistress' feet.

Lyora was stone faced and stiff in posture. It was only in her eyes that Allandra could see the depth of her own sorrow at the loss of their clan. The sisters' gazes met, and Allandra gave a small nod.

"I do not know how your funerals go," Allandra began, looking over her shoulder to her companions. She had insisted they come, since they had traveled so far just for their sake. "The Dalish way is to bury our dead. We plant a tree with each one." She took a deep breath, trying to stop the trembling in her voice. By now they had reached the center, looking out over the rows of the dead. "Its symbolic, for us – the life of the tree marks the grave. Life growing from death in its endless cycle."

With a squeeze of her hand, Lyora took up the next part. "It is often the duty of our _hahren_ to prepare the dead for burial and funeral rites. As we are the only ones here, as the First, I take up the duty. For as long as we can remember, we sing to send the spirit – or spirits - on, that the Guide will lead them through the Beyond, and keep the dead from the clutches of the Dread Wolf."

It was a small blessing that no one made any commentary – Allandra glanced behind her to Solas, but even he was quiet. The Inquisitor waited for her sister to begin before she joined the song.

_hahren na melana sahlin__  
__emma ir abelas__  
__souver'inan isala hamin__  
__vhenan him dor'felas__  
__in uthenera na revas___

_vir sulahn'nehn__  
__vir dirthera__  
__vir samahl la numin__  
__vir lath sa'vunin_

The last notes faded into silence, whisked away by the wind.

"_Ar lasa mala revas. Dareth shiral_." Allandra murmured the words, speaking just loud enough for those nearest her to really hear. "_Ir abelas._" The last was said more to herself; Cullen and Lyora both barely caught the words at all.

Whatever it was she said, it made Lyora frown, which made Cullen frown. Not knowing what else to do, he gave Allandra's shoulder a quick squeeze and a pat.

"Thank you, friends. We do appreciate you coming out here with us." Lyora said, voice carrying over the wind. "If you do not mind, I would like some time alone with my sister." Her tone was neutral, but the others knew it for what it was – they had already been allowed to see a ceremony sacred to their clan; anything further was not for them. The group started making their way back to camp in relative silence, giving each other girls a comforting hug or pat as they passed them. Cullen was the last to go.

As he made his way up back, he stopped to look briefly back to the sisters. From here, their words could not be made out, but now, alone without other prying eyes, they were hugging, leaning on each other for support.

Cullen didn't realize Cole had stopped with him, not until the spirit-boy began to speak. "Hearts hurt, no family but each other now. She blames herself, but she shouldn't. Should have been here, they did not deserve this...It haunts her; the keeper, the elder, but especially the children." The boy peered up at Cullen from under his hat.

"Let them be for now, Cole." Cullen responded, pursing his lips into a thin line. Without waiting for a response, the Commander turned to continue the trek back to camp.

It was late in the evening when the Lavellan sisters finally returned to the camp. Most of the men and women there had already had supper and were going about last minute chores before the sun finished setting.

Lyora split away from her younger sister not long after the entered the camp, making her way to her tent. Both women were exhausted, mentally and emotionally; the white-haired elf murmured about wanting a bit of time to herself to reflect on the day.

Allandra trudged along after bidding her sister goodnight, Ath'laros by her side. Every now and again a soldier would greet her, and she would stop to offer a smile or her own greeting. At long last, she arrived at her tent. She slipped in quietly, shoulders sagging as she let out a heavy sigh once she was out of sight of any of the soldiers.

It took a moment for the fact that a lantern was lit to settle in, and just a moment more to realize Cullen was there, going over some reports.

"Anything important?" She asked, falling down onto the bedroll next to him. After removing her boots and unneeded armor, the elf tucked her legs up under herself, leaning just enough to settle against Cullen's side.

"Just a bit of the usual. Cassandra sending updates on troop training, progress on clearing roads. The progress with Haven is going along smoothly, which is a good thing. Skyhold is getting rather full with people still making the pilgrimage there."

"Mm..." Allandra hummed, resituating herself when Cullen shifts his arm to wrap it around her. Dark honey eyes looked the elf over in concern.

"How are you holding up?"

Allandra was quiet, not answering right away. "Feeling a bit worn thin. Today was...trying." The elf did everything she could to keep up a calm, strong persona in front of crowds, to the soldiers, to the public. More often than not it was a bit of a challenge to let that go in private. It tended to take Allandra a few minutes – and a bit of coaxing – to let go of the 'Herald' and just be the woman. But for now, callused, gentle hands running up and down her back lulled the elf to some semblance of comfort and relaxation. The elf found herself once again saying a small prayer of thanks to whatever god set her on the path that brought her to Cullen.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a time, Cullen reading over whatever papers he had left, Allandra dozing at his side.

Allandra tossed and turned in her sleep when a cold, wet nose woke her. The elf rolled over, careful not to wake Cullen, and glared at her wolf companion – until she took note of the Ath'laros' raised hackles, bright gold eyes locked on the flap of the tent. It put Allandra on edge, and for good reason. The wolf rarely reacted that way to nothing.

"What is it boy?" She murmured, slipping out of her bedroll and grabbing for her armor as quietly as she could. The only answer she received was a low, dangerous growl as the wolf started to pace.

The Inquisitor jumped again when she felt something grab her wrist- stifling another yelp, she turned, face to face with Cullen. There was no light in the tent, save any moonlight that seeped through under the heavy cloth, but that did not bother the elf. While she could not see him as clearly as if there was a lantern or daylight, she could see him well enough to make out the small frown forming through the sleep haze, how his brow began to knit together.

"What's wrong?" He looked worried, words slurring in a half-awake haze.

Allandra shook her head. "I don't know. Ath'laros woke me, acting spooked." She offered her lover a small smile and a quick kiss to the forehead. "I'll take a look. There's probably a bear or something nearby." Even as she tried to be reassuring, gut instinct told her to hurry as the hairs at the back of her neck rose.. Grabbing her daggers, quiver, and bow, she poked her head out of the tent.

Something was wrong, but it was something she could not yet see. It was to quiet outside – where was the night patrol? It took her just a moment for her eyes to adjust to the moonlight, just in time to see a mass of shapes at the edges of the camp.

It was then that an arrow went whizzing by her head – then the shouting started. Firelight bloomed in the darkness, revealing unwelcome guests.

"We're under attack! Inquisition, to arms!" Allandra shouted. All around her the camp began to stir in haste.

* * *

Extra notes:

_Ar lasa mala revas. Dareth shiral_. - You are now free ; farewell / safe journey.

_Ir abelas. - _I am sorry.

The Elvish Eulogy

_hahren na melana sahlin  
emma ir abelas  
souver'inan isala hamin  
vhenan him dor'felas  
in uthenera na revas_

_vir sulahn'nehn  
vir dirthera  
vir samahl la numin  
vir lath sa'vunin_

Translation:

elder your time is come  
now I am filled with sorrow  
weary eyes need resting  
heart has become grey and slow  
in waking sleep is freedom

we sing, rejoice  
we tell the tale  
we laugh and cry  
we love one more day

I have to say, when I started Last of Their Clan, I had not intended it to go beyond a chapter or two. But, the muses have struck, and there is more on the way! :D So stay tuned!

All words / translations come from the Dragon Age Wiki!


End file.
